


Lost and Found

by ProwlingThunder



Series: The Everlasting List of Shenanigans [13]
Category: Yoroiden Samurai Troopers | Ronin Warriors
Genre: Gen, Introspection, No Specific Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1538546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlingThunder/pseuds/ProwlingThunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt!Fill.</p><p>He forgot, and then he learned again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

At some point, he managed to forget; there were people in the world who cared about him, who cared what happened, who wanted him to come home. The War had done that. He had forgotten that there were alternatives to what he was doing; that if he survived, he could trade in his armor and the implements of war for something quieter, more domestic.

 

He could become a farmer, or a scholar, or a husband, a father.

 

He forgot those things existed. He forgot he'd taken up arms by choice, no matter that the choice had been between bad and worse, and he was walking the least evil of all options, because killing was terrible, but letting evil on it's own course, to not do something against it, to do nothing, while it rampaged... That was as evil as anything else.

 

He would never admit to being a saint. But he had forgotten a time when he had done something besides this. Anything but this.

 

He had lost that, somewhere. The sands of time and the red ocean battle had covered it, hidden it beyond his sight and grasp. It had been buried beneath decaying bodies and corroding armor. Smothered. Vanished.

 

Simply gone.

 

After the War, the loss had left him adrift. No more enemies to fight; or, at least, no more armies. No banners, bearing the sigil of enemy generals. No marching drums. The signposts he had used to navigate his life, suddenly without direction.

 

But the world wasn't built on superheros, and it didn't need them.

 

He had to learn that there was something besides a war, the War, that he hadn't expected to live through and no longer knew how to handle life without. Everything had seemed so simple then. That was his concept of life; because he had forgotten a life before it, because he no longer knew how to remember it.

 

And then she had arrived, and peeled back armor and flesh and pried apart the bones, until she found the crushed gem beneath and began working her kintsugi, knitting it back together piece and shard and sand. It was slow progress, gentle healing, that took great care as fixing any precious bowl did take, and she was the lacquer.

 

Even still, it took a long, long time, before he found what he had lost again.


End file.
